The Start of Something New
by GoodBadAndEverythinInBetween
Summary: *please read* A few stories that I've started but never got around to finishing. PM me and do with them what you will. Enjoy :
1. My Own Step

Heyhey.

So I've had this story floating around on my computer for quite a few months already, and I thought I'd post it. The thing is, I'm very busy with Equilibrium: Alicia's Book right now and I don't plan on starting anything else. If you're interested, you can PM me or review if you want to collab or just take this and continue it yourself. BTW, the story line is based on Step Up 3, from Dylan's point of view, if she were in the movie.

* * *

Dylan Marvil had always hated her last name.

There was something incredibly arrogant and conceited about it, or maybe it was just the way that her mother pronounced it every morning on her talk show.

"_Hello, it's great to have you here today. I am Merri-Lee Marvil, and you're watching the Daily Grind."_

_Cue dazzling smile and upturned nose. Red curls tossed lightly, a condescending glance over her shoulder._

Dylan scoffed quietly to herself.

There was a loud knock on the door, and Jaime poked her head in, eyeing her younger sister with distate.

"Dyl, how many times must I tell you," she sighed dramatically, "you have to work hard to keep up your appearance. Your hair could look so much better, if you actually combed it, or got Paolo to help you. And what exactly are you wearing?"

She pushed open the door and shifted to pose on one hip, staring down imperiously at her little sister.

"Jaime, when I want a lecture, I'll ask for one. Leave me alone." Dylan pointed at the door, giving her sister a hard nudge in her stilettos so that she nearly fell over.

"Fine," sneered Jaime, throwing her a smirk over one shoulder, a move that she'd jacked off mom, "don't come running to me if no boy wants you when you're in those ratty sweats."

She pranced out the door and slammed it as hard as she could. Dylan sighed in relief, then flopped onto her bed.

Moments later, Merri-Lee herself rushed into the room, trailed by a short, blonde personal assistant in heels. Dylan couldn't imagine a job more hellish than running around all day in killer heels and skimpy skirts, being bossed around by one of the most undoubtedly devilish women in the whole of history.

"Dylan, my sweet. We need to have a little talk."

Merri-Lee was never more gracious than when she was livid. She crossed the room, her heels click-clacking against the polished hardwood and her curls bouncing.

"Honey, your principal called. It seems you have not been keeping up to date with your school work, is that correct? There was even an occasion, I think, when you saw fit to skive school."

"Yeah, whatever, mom." She slouched back against the wall, keeping her eyes averted.

"Young lady, do not use that tone of voice with me. I will not accept this behavior while you are in my house, and I am certainly not tolerating your dress code. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal." She muttered reluctantly.

"Perfect." She turned and breezed out of the room in a cloud of designer perfume, followed by the unhappy-looking assistant.

Dylan looked around the room, then slipped on a pair of hi-tops and grabbed her IPod, then made her way to the dance studio.

The thumping beat echoing through the empty studio made Dylan feel alive and free. She stretched in time to the music, letting the strong beat drown out the worries in her mind.

_Step it up step it up step it up step it up_

_Break the knob off right now_

_Crumpin' or stuntin' do what ya wanna_

_Imma crank the party up right now_

She held her position for a fraction of a second longer, feeling the burn in her muscle replace the ache and tension. Because her mother had grown more persistent and unreasonable lately, Dylan hadn't been in to practice as often as she would have liked to.

She took a deep breath, staring herself down in the mirrored walls, then rolled back onto her back and executed a perfect backflip. It was good to know that she hadn't completely lost her touch.

Dylan straightened up again and flipped quickly onto a handstand. Halfway up, she felt her palms slipping, and she quickly let her feet back down again. She landed hard on the floor, gasping and sweating, then gritted her teeth and walked over to one of the mirrors and tried again. Better this time.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, six Mississippi, seven Mississippi, eight Mississippi…

She felt her arms giving in, and flicked her legs back over, landing softly on both feet. The low beat thudded, shifting into a different song, but Dylan wasn't finished yet. She stood still for a second, hovering over the floor, then kicked off with her right foot, landing on her stacked palms, the smooth leather of the glove gliding circles on the floor as she spun around once, twice, thrice…

…and then she tumbled head over heels onto the floor, landing uncomfortably in the splits.

Dylan muttered something unintelligible, smacking her fist into the floor in frustration. She brushed a wisp of crimson hair back angrily, flexing her toes.

She swung her arms and feet out together, rocking to the music, letting it carry her movements. Dylan did a few lazy step-claps to the beat, then swung her fist out, imitating a fighter, finally jumping onto both feet and landing in a crouched position. Then she spread her legs apart, placing her hands out sideways in front of her. Her right leg swung in a full circle to the first beat of the music, passing cleanly under her left leg, which she had kicked up. She let her momentum carry her, swinging around for four more circles before dropping to her feet.

"Miss? Miss?"

The tentative knocking on the door jolted Dylan back to reality. She flicked the music off and wrenched the door open in Carla's face.

"Miss Dylan, your mother would like to remind you that the Marvil charity ball will start in two hours. She would like you to please change."

The maid backed off a little after watching her fierce expression.

"I can clean here, no? You will be other places?"

"Whatever." Muttered Dylan, snatching the IPod off the speakers and exiting swiftly.

On her way down the hall, Dylan bumped into her mother.

"I take it you will be changing for the ball now, correct?"

"Hell yeah I will." Grinned Dylan, her eyes flashing mischeviously.

* * *

So, what do you think?


	2. The Happily Never After

Another random bit of story that I will probably never finish. It's free to use :D

* * *

Fairytales suck.

Yeah, you heard me. That's exactly what I said.

They suck. They carry you away into a world of fantasy and heroes, princes and princesses, heroic acts and epic battles. And they all have one thing in common: a happily ever after.

Many people get so caught up in the fantasy that they don't realize that in real life, there is no happy ending. The villains don't get what they deserve. Most of the time, they continue to threaten and bully just because they can, and in the real world, there's no handsome prince to save the day.

To all the girls who swoon over their so-called "knight in shining armour", here's a little something I have to tell you. You can hope all you want, but every guy as a flaw. There will be no perfect Prince Charming. And to all those girls who think they've got their Prince? Look again. You might just realise that your knight in shining armour is really just a retard in tinfoil.

Oh, quit crying. I'm not being mean, I'm simply telling the truth.

Since when has the kind-hearted, sweet girl ever gotten the Prince? She might well try, but the evil sorceress will just swoop in and claim him before she can even lift a finger. Forget the fairy godmother, because even she is powerless against the wrath of the witch.

I'll admit, this took me a long time to figure out, but after falling in love with my retard in tinfoil and having my heart get shattered by him, I've finally realised. This is no fairytale, but if you want to learn about the real things in life, read on. My name is Layne Abeley, and this is my story.

I was woken up on the first day of school by a loud, ugly bird squawking outside my window, as opposed to the sweet birdsong that woke the Sleeping Beauty. No, I was not attended to by my personal maid just like a princess, but yelled at by my mother to "get the hell downstairs now, you're late for school." So I opened my wardrobe to find a hundred beautiful, custom-made ball gowns hanging inside.

Just joking. I threw on a pair of skinnies and a tank top and bolted down the stairs. At the door, no doorman came to help me into a pair of glass slippers, so I just slipped on a pair of flats and ran to catch the bus. My royal carriage.

On the bus, I sat with the losers at the back, thinking sadly about the times when Claire and I used to ride together to school on the bus. Now, Massie Block's royal carriage picked her up every day before school, leaving her to talk with Alicia, Kristen and Dylan, Massie's empty-headed ladies-in-waiting.

Here's how the social hierarchy in our school works. The rich trust fund princesses are driven to school in their limos, kindly provided to them by their darling daddies. They're the elite. The ones who decide how the kingdom is ruled. Then there are nobles, the B-listers. They're slightly less fortunate, and are reduced to riding to school in the school buses with the commoners, noses held high to ward off the stink of the underprivileged.

The peasants, also known as "the rest of them", are a bunch of loyal subjects. Most of their time is spent trying to think up ways to make their king and queen happy, and bowing and simpering to their faces. The scum of society, otherwise known as "the losers" are the ones that have committed crimes and are to be punished by the righteous members of the royal family. Their terrible sins include wearing the wrong types of clothes, looking at the elite without bowing, disrespect and defiance towards the king and queen, and all that sort of stuff. If I don't watch out, I might just end up getting charged for treason one day.

* * *

I was feeling overwhelmed by the Christmassy mushiness when I wrote this, so pardon my negativity.


End file.
